The Naming of Mrs Carson
by Mistressdickens
Summary: Part of the tumblr Chelsie Pride challenge issued by Elliehopaunt. Just a matter of what Mr Carson calls his wife. No spoilers for season 6, other than the usual marriage element. So fluffy.


**A/N: This was from Elliehopaunt's Chelsie Pride tumblr prompt. It's been running around my head for months, and now I've got the dissertation in, I can finally give way to the plot bunnies. There are no season six spoilers in this (unless you count the fact they've got married, in which case you've been living under a rock for the past nine months, he he.) There is SO much I want to write, given the BFI preview, but this is all I'm allowing myself for now. This is based on that deleted scene from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice, which can be found on youtube. I hate that version, quite a bit, but I am partial to that scene, and it just fits so perfectly for our dear old boobies.**

They had been married three days.

Three days had passed since they had stood in a church before their friends and employers; friends on her side of the church, employers on his, an arrangement agreed between them to be the best solutions for everyone's awkwardness. And a silent acknowledgement of how much the Crawleys meant to him; that they were the only family he had truly known.

Until her.

Three days since they had pledged themselves to each other. Her voice cracking as she had said his name, and his eyes filling with tears as he had placed the ring on her finger. The vicar had declared that 'those whom God have joined together, let no man put asunder' and invited Mr Carson to kiss his new bride.

In the moment before he did so, Mrs Carson was certain that not even God would dare to part them, but then instantly doubted if she hadn't already died from happiness as his lips touched her.

It was not their first kiss, not by any means, but she had been wondering if having an audience would mean this one ended up formal and perfunctory. Not so. Mr Carson seemed intent on conveying everything he had ever felt into the caress. His devotion, his desire, his passion, his care all commingled. For him, there was no audience – only the woman before him to which he had pledged his life. After the briefest touch, she too was in a world where only they existed.

Three days since their reception where they had been the subject of toasts and she had then led him into a throng of dancers and reeled away together, until his heels felt as light as his heart and the widest of smiles appeared permanently fixed to his features.

Three days since they had taken their farewell and travelled to the Royal York Hotel in order to be prompt for the train that would whisk them to a week in Whitby. Hey would be returning via Lytham St Anne's, but both wanted a few days alone before introductions to Becky were made.

Three days since that night … but Mrs Carson wasn't going to dwell on that at this particular point in time, as she sat in the sofa in their suite, her husband at her side. He was absentmindedly stroking her hand as he read a book. She would blush at the recollection, and the reaction in the rest of her body might cause her to stir restlessly, and he would _know_. Not that this was objectionable, but she would rather not be quite so transparent on the subject. She would need a better poker face at Downton after all.

She released a small sigh, barely anything at all really, but her husband was attuned to the slightest change in his wife – his whole body strung to resound to the tune she might play – and so he set down his book and looked, instead, at the top of her head, which rested on his shoulder.

'How are you tonight, my dear?'

She sat up slightly and twisted so she could look into his eyes, her own sparkling with delight.

'Oh, _very_ well, thank you. Only I wish you would not call me 'my dear'!'

'Why ever not?!' He too twisted away, so he could look her fully in the eyes, ever conscious of some unintentional offence.

His wife smiled in that way which told him she was holding in laughter and he knew he was about to be teased.

'Because it puts me in mind of what the Dowager calls Mrs Crawley whenever she wants to score a point!'

Their low laughter filled the room as the truth of this statement was felt, but soon died away as he took one of her hands in his and traced the light veins which could be glimpsed beneath her skin.

'What should I call you?' he asked lowly

She chuckled in amusement at the game even as his touch almost made her forget her intended answer.

'Well, let's she', she mused, only pretending to think, when she clearly had a response ready.

'Elsie for everyday', she held his gaze and smiled as he merely raised his eyebrows in silent acknowledgement of the challenge.

'My Pearl for Sundays.' The mirth in her voice told him the very idea was ridiculous, but he made up his mind that he would use it as least once.

'And … _Goddess Divine'_ she finished dramatically and then leaned forward to draw a single finger down his face, leaving it to rest on the underside of his chin. 'But only on _very_ special occasions.'

'And what should I call you when I'm angry?' he asked, knowing full well he would never be able to direct his anger at her ever again. 'Mrs Carson?'

Her eyes lit up at the use of the name and then grew wistful as she gazed down at their entwined hands.

'No' she answered softly, looking up at him, tears forming so that her eyes sparkled even more than they had done before. 'You may only call me Mrs Carson when you completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy.'

He looked at her, highly moved by the feeling in her voice and drew her towards him, so that there was not a centimetre of space between them on the sofa.

'And how are you tonight …. Mrs Carson?'

Her breath hitched in delight as he kissed her forehead.

'Mrs Carson' he murmured, satisfaction evident in his voice as he placed another kiss near her eye, tasting the tear which lingered there.

'Mrs Carson' he said in awe and wonder as he kissed her cheek, and her fingers clutched at his shoulder, his voice moving her in a way she hadn't known to be possible just four days ago.

'Mrs Carson' he said again, his voice heavy with desire.

Her reply was lost as his lips found hers and the need they both felt for each other rose up and crashed about them.

He was destined not to receive a verbal reply that night, but actions speak louder than words and the fact they were both well – very well indeed – was proclaimed to the four walls of their room and the words were emblazoned on their hearts which had expanded with love over the past few days and would do so forever more.

 **A/N: So fluffy, I'm gonna die. Reviews, as always, loved and cherished.**


End file.
